


Meringue and Mixtapes

by Akranes



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - College/University, Baker Park Jimin (BTS), Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Image, Chubby Kink, Chubby Park Jimin (BTS), Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Weight Gain, Weight Gain Kink, Weight Issues, extremely soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akranes/pseuds/Akranes
Summary: “My cheeks look like mochi,” Jimin complains.“Mmm,” Yoongi says, teasing, “Maybe that’s it. You know I love mochi.”Or: Jimin pursues a baking career and gets chubby along the way. Yoongi sees this as a non-issue, but Jimin has to be convinced.
Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kafka_shore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafka_shore/gifts).



> This is part of a fic exchange with the incredible and oh-so-sweet kafka_shore! She's the best and I think this was the motivation we both needed to actually get something DONE lol (it's been a few months since my last posting, because I just keep starting more and more WIPs *nervous laughter*). Love you to death, dearie!! <3 (and sorry I'm like eight hours late in posting this fml)
> 
> You can check out her Six of Crows fic that is part of this exchange [ here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163825)!
> 
> Pls do check the tags as well on this - deals with body image and the like, and has been written by someone with a kink, so please know your own limits and what may trigger you <3
> 
> And lastly I really don't know how like baking programs/schools work, so I kinda just made it up for what I wanted in this fic don't @ me

“Try this one, hyung.”

Yoongi pokes his head up out of his textbook to see Jimin shoving a neat mini fruit tart his way.

Yoongi eyes it, then Jimin, before plucking it from Jimin’s fingertips. Jimin awaits his verdict with an anxious impatience in his eyes.

The filling is something pink, tangy and just a little sweet, and the crust is flaky and buttery. It’s excellent. Most of what Jimin makes is.

“It’s really good, Jiminie,” Yoongi says, and he places the tart with a bite taken out on the napkin at his elbow. On the napkin, there’s an assortment of baked goods fairing similarly; an oatmeal cookie, a slice of a glazed spiced pumpkin nut cake, and a decadent brownie complete with chocolate chips, nuts and caramel, all with a bite or two removed.

Jimin’s been baking all day, nervously trying to narrow down his favorite bakes to two that he’ll present as his application to a prestigious baking program. Apparently, one of the most prestigious in the country.

According to Jimin (because it’s not like Yoongi would know either way), he’s going about his baking career a little backwards. Most people go to culinary school before entering any specialized program like this, but apparently that’s what makes this particular program so competitive: anyone, regardless of skill level or education background, can apply. Getting into this program would allow Jimin to get accepted to any culinary school he wants, or maybe even circumvent it all together and jumpstart his career.

Jimin makes a face. “Just good?” he asks, walking over to the tray and picking one up for himself.

“I said _really_ good,” Yoongi says, watching Jimin take a big bite, leaving about half the tart. He chews thoughtfully, makes a satisfied sound, and pops the rest of the tart into his mouth.

“It is,” Jimin agrees, chewing, “But it might be a little overdone. I’ll take another minute off the baking time.”

Yoongi hums agreeably, looking back down at his textbook and flipping the page, “Is it strawberry?”

“Strawberry rhubarb, yeah,” Jimin says, slipping onto the barstool next to Yoongi.

Yoongi lifts his head again. He takes in Jimin’s features, the tired slouch in his back, and the nervous twitch in his hands, his sleepy, exhausted eyes.

Yoongi softens. He slips an arm around Jimin’s back, and Jimin leans into him with a huff.

“You’re going to do fine, Jimin. Seriously.”

Jimin sighs. He says, “Maybe,” and pulls Yoongi’s napkin closer, taking the rest of his oatmeal cookie in one bite.

Yoongi certainly _likes_ sweets, but in truth he’s already getting a little nauseous from all the taste testing he’s done for Jimin today.

Jimin, though - he’s eaten so many sweets today that Yoongi can hardly believe he’s not sick.

He’s always had a bigger appetite and been more solidly built than Yoongi, though. He’s always had a layer of soft cushion blurring his edges and giving his cheeks a cherubic puff. In the two years that Yoongi’s known Jimin, he’s always toed the line between stocky and chubby.

They met at community college, and were there for different reasons; a four-year university was a little expensive for Yoongi, so he intended to get all his gen-ed’s done and save up some money in the meantime. Jimin hadn’t figured out what path he wanted to take for his career yet, and didn’t want to commit to a bigger university until he was sure.

Jimin had been the one to strike up a friendly conversation with Yoongi on their first day of Intro to Classic Literature. He’d sat right next to Yoongi, and cheerily complemented his ZionT shirt.

And really, if he’s honest with himself, that’s all it had taken. Yoongi would be a goddamn liar if he said he hadn’t been taken on the spot by Jimin’s presence.

And against all odds, Jimin seemed to find Yoongi, in all his cynicism and dry humor, charming.

Now, Yoongi pushes his napkin closer to Jimin. Jimin plucks up the brownie and starts munching at it.

“I need to stop eating so much of this,” Jimin complains. He gives Yoongi a pout and adds, “You’re no help.”

Yoongi just snickers, wrapping his arm more firmly around Jimin, and says, “Then stop snacking on all of it and bring it to work, or class or something. You know I can’t eat that much sugar, it’ll make me sick.”

Jimin’s pout intensifies, and he pushes the last bite of the brownie into his mouth petulantly. Fondness tugs at Yoongi’s heart, even as he rolls his eyes.

“But I think you should eat whatever you want,” Yoongi adds, because sometimes he thinks Jimin needs the reminder, “You know that.”

Because while Jimin’s never been exactly skinny, his weight does fluctuate a fair amount. He’d been a bit leaner when they met, for him at least, but that was also around the same time that Jimin started baking more earnestly, so it hadn’t lasted very long. Depending on stress, or the time of year, or any other extraordinary factors, Jimin’s weight ticks up or down. He knows it, too; he’ll complain about how he’s always put on weight easily, and how hard it can be even just to maintain his somewhat-above-average weight. When he’s at that somewhat-above-average weight, he doesn’t so much have a belly as he just has a soft middle, with a slight convex curve. 

But Yoongi’s noticed that when his weight swings up, he gets a little shy about it. He gets less prone to walking around in his underwear, and blushier when Yoongi puts his hands on his hips, or any other pudgy and soft area. His hands will flutter around the hems of his shirts to make sure they stay over the little push of his tummy. 

Yoongi always, _always_ tries to impress upon Jimin that it doesn’t matter to him. He thinks Jimin is beyond attractive. He’s sexy and adorable at the same time, and so fucking pretty that it’s unfair. His weight doesn’t matter to Yoongi; it never did.

Jimin chews his lip and meets Yoongi’s eyes. “If I keep eating everything I bake, I’m just gonna get fat,” he says.

Yoongi looks at him evenly, “So what? You’d still be hot.”

Not to mention Jimin’s weight is already higher than usual right now. He’s been perfecting these recipes for weeks, and now the application day is around the corner.

“Hyuuuung,” Jimin whines, like he always does when Yoongi says something like that.

Yoongi waves his hand in the air, “What’s that expression you told me? No one trusts a skinny baker?”

Jimin giggles, “It’s _never_ trust a skinny baker. I think the expression is _chef_ , actually, not baker. And, I’m already not skinny, so.”

“Then it sounds like you have nothing to worry about.”

Now Jimin rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, so Yoongi takes it as a win.

The timer dings, and Jimin hops to his feet.

“That’s the cheesecake,” he says, picking up Yoongi’s discarded strawberry rhubarb tart and taking a big bite, like he’s already forgotten what he had been complaining about a second earlier.

Yoongi watches him, feeling fond. His apron is tied tight, highlighting the plush swell of his tummy, a bit bloated and rounded out from all the sugar he’s eaten today. It also highlights the little bulges along his hips, where the waistband of his sweatpants is noticeably tighter than it used to be, creating a soft muffin top.

Yoongi looks down at his textbook and fights a sigh. He doesn’t feel like working. He’s had a hard time focusing all day. He’s started taking some business classes recently, since getting an Associate’s wouldn’t take too long, and he’d be able to start making decent money. It’s not like it’s his dream, not by a long shot, but - all the music production programs he’s looked into are so fucking _expensive_. He can’t afford anything like that, and he’ll never be able to unless he starts making something more substantial. And there’s tons of white collar jobs around the city. He can work one for a few years until he’s saved up enough.

Conversely, he’s happy Jimin’s getting this opportunity to do what he loves. If _both_ of them had to work dumb, office jobs, they’d probably go crazy.

He watches Jimin bustle around the kitchen, clearing a spot on the overloaded stovetop.

He’d never say it, least of all to Jimin, because he’s been Jimin’s biggest cheerleader through his whole baking career, but…

The program he’s applying for is over three hours away. There’s dorms there he’d move into for the duration of the program, which is a semester, so about five months.

And Yoongi _wants_ this for Jimin, he really does. Since he started taking baking seriously, he’s been talking about this program. At the beginning it was wistful, like he never figured he’d be good enough, but as Jimin’s skills improved, he started considering it more sincerely. It’s been a dream for Jimin, a true passion, and Yoongi’s rooting for him the whole way.

_But_ \- selfishly, he’s a bit concerned for himself. He’s grown so used to Jimin’s sunshine, his effervescence and his kindness, that being apart from him for so long just seems like it’s really going to suck. And sure, they can call and video chat whenever, but that’s just not the same.

Especially now that they got a little studio together at the start of this year. Being alone, in this space that they’ve only ever shared together, _also_ seems like it’s really going to suck.

None of that’s enough, though, to damper his genuine excitement for Jimin. The kid’s going to make it, Yoongi’s sure of it. And Yoongi will deal. It’s only _five months_. He’d gone 19 years without Jimin in his life, he can do another five months.

And besides, Yoongi’s got a sneaking suspicion that three hours won’t seem like too long after his first few weeks without Jimin. He thinks he’ll be making that drive way more than once.

Yoongi closes his textbook, choosing to watch Jimin instead as he pulls the cheesecake out of the oven and places it onto the stovetop. Jimin’s eyes are narrowed and focused, as he gives the pan a gentle shake to test the doneness of the middle.

He seems satisfied as he slips his oven mitts off and leaves it to cool. He picks up another brownie, where they’re stacked on a plate off to the side. He takes a bite and starts to walk back to sit with Yoongi, startling when he sees Yoongi’s eyes on him.

“What?” he asks, chewing, his cheeks flushing gently.

“Just thinking about how much I’m going to miss you when you’re at the program,” he says honestly.

Jimin looks pleased at that. “I might not get in,” he points out, like he always does. He finishes the brownie in his hands.

“You will,” Yoongi says, slipping off his stool to step into Jimin’s space, putting his hands on his softening hips. “And if you don’t, they’re obviously out of their minds.”

Jimin rolls his eyes again, but his grin goes wide. “ _Obviously_ ,” he says.

Yoongi tugs him closer, until their torsos are flush. Yoongi feels the round bump of Jimin’s tummy push up against him.

They’re about the same height, which makes it especially easy to give Jimin’s full lips kisses, so he does. He tastes like sugar and chocolate. Yoongi feels some of the tension leave Jimin’s body.

“Let’s lay down for a little,” Yoongi proposes, “you’ve been working for hours.”

Jimin glances at the kitchenette over his shoulder. “The cheesecake should cool for at least an hour before I add any decoration.”

“Perfect, then,” Yoongi says, watching Jimin obediently untie his apron and slip it over his head. He’s wearing a navy t-shirt underneath, and it’s decidedly snug around the little pooch of his tummy. Said tummy is also round enough that it pushes the waistband of his sweats down just a little in the front, framing the extra pudge Jimin’s carrying these days.

Yoongi pulls him by the hand and leads him out of the kitchenette, walking the few footsteps to their bed.

Jimin’s already grinning, and Yoongi feels himself grin, too. He flops down onto the bed backwards, pulling Jimin with him.

Jimin lets out a surprised shriek, which dissolves into giggles. They’re cut short, though, as he gives a soft, pained groan.

“Be gentle, hyung,” he says, “I’m...a little stuffed.”

They settle on the bed facing each other, and Jimin’s shy eyes flit up to Yoongi’s, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it. Like Yoongi hadn’t been sitting _right there_ as Jimin raised treat after treat to his lips.

Yoongi hums. There’s plenty of space between them that Yoongi can place his hand over Jimin’s belly, so he does. He slips his hand under Jimin’s thin, flimsy t-shirt and feels the warm, bowed out curve beneath.

He starts rubbing circles in Jimin’s bloated tummy. He’s had to start doing this with increasing frequency over the past few weeks. Jimin blushes, _hard_ , but squirms a little closer, so Yoongi doesn’t have to reach as far.

Yoongi can definitely tell Jimin is stuffed; his tummy is usually pudgy, malleable and doughy. It loves to fold into enticingly plump rolls, and Yoongi thinks the way it jiggles as of recently is unfairly cute.

But the tummy under his fingertips is firm, with barely any give. It seems hotter to the touch than the rest of him.

Yoongi tsks, teasing, “What are you going to do without your dutiful belly-rub administer?”

A smile flickers over Jimin’s face before he says, mopey, “Maybe it’ll keep me from eating so much.”

Yoongi doesn’t like the sound of that. He doesn’t like the idea of Jimin not taking whatever he wants.

It’s not true, by any means. Jimin’s overeaten himself to this point even when Yoongi’s not around to tend to his tender belly. Yoongi knows because sometimes he’ll come home from class or work to Jimin, whiny and achy, sprawled out on their bed.

And God help him, it’s endearing every time. He’s not sure why he finds Jimin’s inability to resist overindulging so cute, but he does.

So he goes for another lighthearted tease that’s also honest, “Don’t be silly, Jiminie, that’s never stopped you before.”

Jimin barks a laugh, swatting Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi only grins and leans closer to kiss him, keeping a proprietary hand over Jimin’s belly.

_

Jimin gets into the program, obviously. 

He’d been so nervous on his application day that he’d nearly been ill that morning. They rose early, having to make the three-odd hour drive to the facility.

Jimin had been practically vibrating in the passenger seat, squirming and picking at his nails, looking so pale and nervous that Yoongi feared he might have to pull over for Jimin to be sick.

But, he didn’t, and Yoongi really thinks it’s because in the 24 hours leading up to the application day, he’d switched from stress eating, to being practically unable to eat anything at all.

Luckily that had ended as soon as application day was over.

Yoongi had thought maybe Jimin’s eating would scale back to normal after the application, but then he was all wound up over the impending acceptance or rejection letter. The nervous baking and eating persisted.

Then, when his acceptance letter came, all the eating became celebratory. He’d made batches upon batches of treats, some to bring to school, some to bring to the coffee shop he works at, and even some for Yoongi to bring to his classes and the toast shop he works at. But as always, more than his fair share ended up in Jimin’s tummy before they made it out the door. He also begged Yoongi to get takeout for dinner nearly every night for a whole week after receiving his letter, claiming that to be part of the celebration as well.

And maybe Yoongi’s just a pushover when it comes to Jimin, because it’s never like he had to beg very hard before Yoongi rolled his eyes and agreed.

So, now as Yoongi’s getting ready to drive Jimin to the program over a month after his initial application, he feels like he should’ve maybe suggested they get Jimin some new clothes before he left.

Because he hasn’t stopped putting on weight.

But he’s also been living in sweats, so Yoongi doesn’t think he can be blamed for not really noticing until now.

Jimin’s currently rifling through a packed bag, making sure he has everything he needs. He’s also in jeans, and Yoongi can easily tell that they’re too small.

It’s not hugely noticeable - it’ll be hidden even more once Jimin dons the cardigan he’s picked out for today - but now, just in jeans and a white t-shirt, Yoongi can definitely tell.

The denim is pulled tight around his ass, on display as he leans over, his back to Yoongi. His thighs, too, look tightly encased, and he’s sporting a very obvious muffin top from behind.

It strikes Yoongi then, that this is the biggest he’s ever seen Jimin.

Jimin turns a little, still rifling through the bag, and Yoongi gets an eyeful of his profile.

His tummy, mostly empty as they agreed to grab breakfast on the road, pushes over his waistband, sitting happily on top of it. The pants must’ve been too tight to button at his natural waist, and Jimin’s had to do them up under that increasing swell of belly. As Jimin continues rummaging, Yoongi sees the way it wobbles subtly with his movements. He can also make out the indent of his belly button, obvious from the snugness of the undershirt. His head is tilted down, and Yoongi takes in the puff of his chin, folding cutely in a way that isn’t _new_ , but definitely wasn’t so obvious before. Even his arms look padded and soft, filling the sleeves of his t-shirt out so there’s not a wrinkle in sight.

Jimin sighs and straightens, turning towards Yoongi. “I think I’m ready,” he says. He must catch the way Yoongi’s eyes move from his torso up to his face, and he chews his lip, a hand instinctively moving to tug his shirt down, even though it’s still covering him.

Yoongi steps closer, a gentle hand coming to Jimin’s waist, right above the stubborn push of a love handle, and he kisses his soft lips.

Jimin leans into him receptively, and when the kiss breaks, he doesn’t move away, instead tucking his head into Yoongi’s shoulder. There’s a beat of silence, and Yoongi wonders if Jimin’s going to bring it up. As embarrassed as he gets about his weight, he talks about it a fair amount. Sometimes Yoongi thinks he’s just looking for reassurance.

Sure enough, Jimin mumbles out, “These are my biggest pants, hyung. Why didn’t you tell me I was getting so chubby?”

Yoongi chuckles, shifting to try and urge Jimin’s face out of its hiding spot against his shoulder. Jimin allows it, and Yoongi’s treated to his pink cheeks and a delicate pout.

“Jiminie,” Yoongi says, “I’m not going to lecture you about your eating. You’re an adult, you can eat whatever you want.”

The pout intensifies.

“You’ve been stressed, and then celebrating, Jimin. There’s nothing wrong with that. And you know I don’t mind,” he adds, “You’re adorable like this.” He puncuates it by bringing a hand up and pinching his cheek.

That gets a giggle out of Jimin as he swats Yoongi’s hand away, moving away from the embrace to slip on his cardigan.

“Stop it, hyung!” he says, “I’m not going to eat as much as I’ve been eating while I’m gone, anyways.”

“No?”

“Of course not!” Jimin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s like you said, I’ve been stressed and then celebrating.”

“Right,” is all Yoongi says. It doesn’t seem like a prudent time to mention that Jimin’s _always_ been prone to overeating. He’s indulged himself so much recently, it’s hard to imagine him easily cutting back. Especially when surrounded by his ultimate weakness: sweets.

“I might even lose some weight,” Jimin continues, bringing his bag to the door.

“Uh-huh,” Yoongi says, and he doesn’t mean it to sound skeptical, but Jimin still shoots him a look.

“You might,” Yoongi says, trying for a little more conviction this time and following Jimin to the door, “But for the record, I think you look really nice like this.”

“My cheeks look like mochi,” Jimin complains.

“Mmm,” Yoongi says, teasing, “Maybe that’s it. You know I love mochi.”

It earns him another smile and laugh. Jimin steps closer, putting his bag down and looping his arms round Yoongi’s neck.

His face gets somber. “Thank you for this, hyung. I know...it won’t be easy.”

Yoongi hums, bringing a hand up to cup Jimin’s admittedly mochi-like cheek. “No,” he agrees, “But I can drive up whenever I want to.”

Jimin frowns, “I know. I mean, like...money stuff, too.”

“Ah,” Yoongi acknowledges. He’s always insisted to Jimin that they’d figure it out if they got to this point, and he meant it. They’ll figure it out. The program’s not cheap and Jimin’s dipping into most of his savings for it. Yoongi never had quite as much in his savings as Jimin, but even so, he drained most of it a year ago on buying his car.

Paying bills and rent on just Yoongi’s paycheck for a while will be tight, since Jimin had to leave his job as a barista and won’t be working as he completes the program. There will presumably be a lull between Jimin returning and finding a new job, too.

But, Jimin finished last semester’s courses and is unlikely to return to traditional schooling after this, so at least there’s no more tuition costs there.

“It’ll be tight,” Yoongi says, “But we’ll be fine.”

Jimin smiles and nods. Yoongi smiles back, and presses a kiss to his lips.

_

Yoongi wasn’t sure how he was expecting to feel with Jimin’s absence, but the answer is apparently: irreparably grumpy.

He’s found himself snapping at coworkers and classmates, but it doesn’t click how cranky he’s been until he hangs out with the guys and Hoseok pokes fun at his sweatshirt-sweatpants groutfit.

Irritably, Yoongi snaps back that at least he doesn’t look like a poorly drawn Disney villain.

He’s grateful when it gets laughs, his friends as easy going as usual, because he feared it may have been a bit far when it left his lips (Hoseok’s been experimenting with a lot of silk and billowiness in his style lately, and ‘Disney villain’ probably isn’t the look he’s going for).

But Hoseok had only roared with good-natured laughter, “Gosh, I forgot how _mean_ Yoongi-hyung is without Jimin around! We need that kid back, ASAP!”

Yoongi couldn’t agree more. Truthfully, Yoongi’s own bad outfit was because laundry was usually Jimin’s chore, and he’d been procrastinating it.

Presently, he’s working on dinner, and taking out his moodiness by tenderizing the pork, when his phone rings. His chest swells in pleasure when he sees it’s a Facetime from Jimin.

It’s been over two weeks now, and Yoongi would’ve loved to talk to Jimin more, but in truth, they’ve both been busy. Yoongi’s picked up some extra shifts lately, both for the money and so he’s not spending too much time alone in their apartment. Jimin’s only ever available in the evenings, and even then he’s got a lot of readings and tutorials to do. Usually they manage one FaceTime a day, but they missed yesterday.

Yoongi wipes his hands off, answering hurriedly.

Jimin’s smiling face populates his screen, and Yoongi feels his own face split into a grin.

“Hi, hyung,” he says. Yoongi can tell he’s laying stomach-down on his bed.

“Hey, Jiminie. How was your day?” Yoongi asks, propping his phone up so he can chop veggies as they talk.

Jimin’s smile widens. “Really good,” he says, “We learned how to get proper lamination for pastry today. I’ve only ever done rough puff, so doing proper pastry is so cool. I was always too intimidated to try it by myself, but I made some today and we’re baking them tomorrow, and I’m so excited, I think it’s going to come out really good.”

Yoongi nods, as if the words Jimin’s saying make sense to him. He’s just excited that Jimin’s excited.

“Your pastry’s always good,” Yoongi says.

Jimin’s still grinning, “It’s gonna be so much better when I get back.”

Yoongi shoots him an earnest smile.

“What about you, hyung? How was your day?”

Yoongi tries not to scowl. He shrugs instead, and says, “It was fine. Just a day.”

Jimin’s grin softens, “Yeah? I talked with Namjoon-hyung today. He says you’ve been cranky.”

Now Yoongi feels himself scowl, try as he might to stop it.

Jimin laughs, and the sound alone breaks through his grump, and he finds himself smiling again, too.

“Okay, so maybe I’ve been a little cranky,” he allows, “But I’m fine. The grind has just...felt draining, lately.”

Jimin’s still wearing a soft smile, and he hums sympathetically. “I’m sorry, hyung. I miss you a lot.”

“I miss you a lot, too.”

“Is that why you’ve been cranky?”

“Maybe.”

Jimin grins again. “What are you making?” he asks.

Yoongi tries to keep the grin off his face as he says, “Samgyeopsal.”

Predictably, Jimin’s jaw drops, “ _Hyung_!” he exclaims, “I cannot believe you’re making your samgyeopsal _without me_!”

It’s Jimin’s very favorite dish that Yoongi makes, not that he can make many to begin with, but still.

“It’s comfort food, to try and make me less grumpy,” Yoongi says, because it’s both the honest truth, and probably the only thing he could say that would get him out of trouble.

Sure enough, Jimin deflates. “ _Fine_ , I guess,” he mopes.

“What about you, Jiminie?” Yoongi wonders, “I hope they’re feeding you well there.”

Jimin rests his face in a hand. It makes his cheeks look even fuller.

“Of course, hyung,” he says, “There’s a mess hall but honestly, we mostly just eat each other’s food. The other class made pie crusts today and a bunch of them made savory pies, and they were _so good_ , hyung. Someone made a chicken and mushroom pie and it was to die for. I probably ate way too much of it.”

Yoongi can imagine. He smiles and says, “That sounds good.”

“Not as good as your samgyeopsal.”

Yoongi laughs, “I doubt it.”

Jimin laughs, too, then pauses. He looks vaguely nervous, so Yoongi doesn’t say anything, letting Jimin take his time.

“I’m...probably not going to lose weight here,” he finally says.

Yoongi regards him evenly through the screen. “Okay,” he says. He looks back down, and wipes the diced onions off the back of his knife.

Jimin huffs. “Are...are you sure?”

Yoongi’s eyes snap back to the screen. He opens his mouth, but Jimin keeps talking before he gets a chance to answer.

“Because I know I’m heavier than I was when we got together. I’m...probably at my heaviest. Like, ever. And you always say you don’t mind, that you like how I look, but I just -”

Jimin pauses, and Yoongi waits for him to continue. Usually when Jimin talks about his weight, it’s half hearted complaints, or fishes for compliments and reassurance. It’s rare for him to talk about it so seriously, and Yoongi doesn’t want to interrupt him until he’s said all he has to say.

Even if he’s chomping at the bit to give him as much reassurance he can muster via FaceTime.

“I don’t really see myself losing the weight,” Jimin continues, so quietly that if Yoongi hadn’t paused chopping, he probably wouldn’t have even heard him, “At least, probably not anytime soon. But I-I probably could, like, diet or something when I get home. If...you’d prefer.”

The last bit has Yoongi floored. He’s not sure how to place the emotion that washes over him at Jimin’s words; not quite a sadness, almost more like a defensiveness. How could Yoongi ever think that this Jimin is any less worthy of love and adoration than a slimmer one? 

He realizes, too, that he’s quite literally agape. All he gets out is a soft, “Jimin…” before Jimin starts again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jimin says, suddenly haughty, rolling his eyes like it’s _no big deal_ , “It would be _okay_ , hyung. You’re allowed to have preferences.”

Yoongi purses his lips. He _supposes_ that’s true, but he still can’t imagine a world where he should have the right to decide what someone else’s body looks like, relationship or not.

“No,” Yoongi says.

“No?” Jimin’s brow furrows, “To...what part?”

“No, I wouldn’t prefer you diet. Jimin, the only time you should diet is if _you_ want to. I want whatever you want. If it’s to diet, okay. If it’s to eat a gallon of cookies and cream ice cream at once, okay.”

“ _Hyuuuuung_!” Jimin whines, and Yoongi can see the smile threatening to emerge onto his face, “That was _one time_!”

“And if it were to be more than once,” Yoongi says resolutely, “that would be fine.”

Jimin bites his lip, still fighting a grin, “Yeah?”

“Duh.”

The grin takes over his face, and _fuck_ , what Yoongi wouldn’t give to be there with him right now. To be able to hold him, to be able to show him how beautiful he is.

Yoongi grins back, but he thinks it’s probably hampered by the sudden wave of longing.

“I, ah,” Yoongi starts, because he suddenly _has_ to ask, “Do you think I could come up there next weekend?”

He _tries_ not to sound desperate as he says it, but there’s a twinkle in Jimin’s eye.

“Actually, that’s why I called,” Jimin says, “My roommate’s going home next weekend.”

Yoongi feels his smile go gummy, the way he always thought was unflattering, but Jimin has professed undying love for that grin enough that Yoongi’s learning to love it, too.

“Perfect,” he says, “I’ll take off next weekend, then.”

Jimin grins, “Only if you promise to be nice to our friends.”

Yoongi wrinkles his nose, “I’m nice enough.”

He keeps cooking, increasing Jimin’s volume as he gets things in the frying pan so he can hear Jimin talk more about the program. He can _almost_ trick himself into thinking Jimin’s there with him, except if Jimin were really there, he’d look over Yoongi’s shoulder from time to time, sometimes make a suggestion or two.

Yoongi usually rolls his eyes, shooing him out, but truthfully, he doesn’t mind. The kitchen is Jimin’s domain, even if he’s more inclined towards baking than cooking.

Still, the conversation as Yoongi cooks is nice. It brings some warmth and hominess back into the apartment that it’s been missing since he dropped Jimin off.

And maybe knowing that he’s going to be seeing Jimin in person soon will have him in a better mood over the next few days.

_

His mood’s a _little_ better the next few days. He’s _trying_.

He _didn’t_ call the customer that ‘didn’t know’ there’s caffeine in matcha an idiot. He _didn’t_ make a snide comment when his manager gave him a hard time about taking the weekend off. And, he thinks he was as nice as could be reasonably expected when he hung out with the guys.

He can’t deny that it’s so much easier with something he’s looking forward to on the horizon.

So when Friday rolls around, Yoongi heads out early. Even if he has to wait around for Jimin to finish classes, he’s okay with that. He’ll beat the worst of the traffic this way, anyways.

When Yoongi gets into town, he shoots Jimin a text saying to give Yoongi a call when he’s done for the day.

Yoongi finds a cute little coffee shop and gets himself a latte, tucking himself into a corner booth and taking his old laptop out, getting as much schoolwork done as he can, since he’s not planning on spending much more time on it this weekend. It’s boring, and it seems to drag on and on until Jimin calls him a few hours later.

Yoongi pulls up to the facility and sees Jimin waiting patiently on a bench, scrolling through his phone. Yoongi’s heart is already pounding. _Fuck_ , he’s missed him. Yoongi puts the car in park, and Jimin’s head pops up. He grins, and Yoongi can’t get out of the car fast enough.

They embrace, and Yoongi’s not sure he’s ever going to let go. Jimin giggles under his crushing grip, but allows it for as long as Yoongi wants. He loves attention like this, and right now, all Yoongi wants to do is give it.

They end up going to a bulgogi restaurant, and it’s really only then that he takes Jimin in fully. He’d wondered, mostly absently, if Jimin would continue getting chubbier during his program. His guess was _yes_ , because he’s well acquainted with Jimin’s appetite, especially recently, but he hadn’t expected to notice any sort of difference either way now, after only a short time. 

But, Jimin keeps the camera on his face when they Facetime, so this is the first time in a month Yoongi’s getting an eyeful of his body. And he has to admit, he does look a little rounder.

Nothing huge, and if Yoongi didn’t just love _looking_ at Jimin so much it would probably be less obvious. But as it is, his cheeks look a little rounder. He’s closer to having a true double chin than before. He’s still not quite there, but he’s definitely close. When he chews it’s more obvious, puffing out from his jaw working. Even the gentle crease at his wrists as he moves his hands animatedly is just a touch more pronounced.

He’s sitting behind the table now, enthusiastically talking about his course, so Yoongi can’t make out much more, but that’s okay. He’ll get his fill of Jimin’s body later, because right now, he feels so content to just be basking in Jimin’s radiance again.

He asks Yoongi about work and school and Yoongi shrugs the questions off with generic statements like “they’re good,” or “everything’s going fine.” He doesn’t really want to talk about how exhausting it’s been feeling, or the way his own path is starting to feel a little lost. Jimin would surely feel guilty about pursuing his own thing, and that’s the opposite of what Yoongi wants. Jimin’s obviously so happy, and he’s not interested in detracting from that right now. This time is about Jimin.

Either way, he can tell Jimin’s not really buying it. He nods and smiles, but there’s something somber in his eyes that lets him know Jimin can tell he’s lying.

The food arrives, and they dig in. They’ve ordered what’s apparently a plate for two, that Jimin warned is huge, but perfect since he had also professed he was _starving_ , since he came and met with Yoongi rather than munching on all the food made today with his classmates.

It looks like a massive amount of beef, served with more bangchan that can be easily counted. It doesn’t take Yoongi long before he’s sated, and even then he eats a little past that. It really is _delicious_ \- this place is apparently a haunt of Jimin and his classmates’. He can see why. If they have appetites half as big as Jimin’s, this place is a winner.

Jimin, impressively, is still going strong long after Yoongi’s finished eating. What had looked like such a huge pile of beef diminishes as Jimin eats and eats, until there’s little but scraps left.

Yoongi doesn’t really feel anything but pleased - after their conversation last week, Yoongi had been anticipating some apprehensiveness from Jimin about his weight, or about his eating. He’s relieved to see Jimin eating uninhibited.

They go back to Jimin’s dorm, after he eats the lion’s share of the food. If Yoongi’s honest, he’s practically gagging for it by the time they get there. Jimin barely gets through the door before Yoongi’s pulling him closer by his hips, and kissing him.

Jimin hums appreciatively and threads his arms behind Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi feels the pleasant _push_ of soft belly against his own flat stomach and smiles indulgently into the kiss.

He starts nudging Jimin closer to the bed, and Jimin breaks the kiss with a giggle.

“Wait, wait, that’s my roommate’s bed,” he says, tugging Yoongi towards the other one instead.

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi laughs, too. He sits on _Jimin’s_ bed then, and tugs Jimin into his lap.

They start kissing again. Jimin’s soft lips move from his mouth to kiss along his jaw. 

“Missed you so much, hyung,” he says between kisses.

Yoongi swallows, because he’s not sure he can even verbalize how much he’s missed Jimin.

He slips his hands under the hem of Jimin’s snug tee, moving to ruck it up, but then Jimin’s lips leave his neck and his hands are on Yoongi’s, halting the movement.

Yoongi frowns and looks up at Jimin’s face, wearing a shy blush.

“Jimin…” Yoongi starts. He’s admittedly a bit concerned; it’s not unusual for Jimin to be self conscious about his body, but he’s never completely declined to take his shirt off in front of Yoongi before.

Jimin shakes his head and releases a humorless little chuckle.

“No, sorry, it’s fine, it’s just -” Jimin sighs, and pulls up the hem of his t-shirt himself and holds it up at his chest, exposing the soft expanse of his tummy, inviting Yoongi to take a look.

It’s just a bit rounder than Yoongi remembers, but that’s not what’s giving Jimin pause, obviously. There’s a few red lines etched into the softened skin, on either side of and a little lower than his belly button, decorating that plump lower curve of his belly.

“They popped up, like, my first week here,” Jimin says, looking down.

Yoongi hums, entirely unbothered. He raises a hand slowly, so Jimin can stop him if he wants, and places his hand on Jimin’s belly. He swipes his thumb over the patch of stretch marks on his left, feeling the slightly indented texture curiously. Jimin has old, silvered stretch marks on his thighs and a few on his hips, but he hasn’t gotten any new ones since Yoongi’s known him. It’s not surprising, though, with how much of his new weight has settled around his stomach. Yoongi can’t help but notice the still-fairly-new rolls at his sides are looking a little thicker, too.

“They’re ugly,” Jimin whines.

“They’re not,” Yoongi says firmly, not leaving room for argument.

Jimin’s wide, uncertain eyes meet Yoongi’s.

“Nothing about you could ever be ugly, Jiminie. You’re gorgeous. That includes your tummy,” Yoongi says resolutely, moving his hand lightly over Jimin’s stomach in soothing circles the way he knows Jimin likes.

Jimin bites his lip, fighting a grin. After a pause, he says softly, “You’re such a good boyfriend, hyung.”

Yoongi _wants_ to argue, because he just can’t understand anyone making their partner, that they love, feel bad over something like this. It doesn’t feel like _good boyfriend_ behavior, it feels like the bare minimum.

But instead, Yoongi takes the compliment. He leans back in for a kiss, giving Jimin’s chunky side a grope. He’s both surprised and strangely satisfied with how much chub he gets in his hand. It feels good. _God_ , Jimin’s getting soft.

Jimin makes a sound that’s almost a complaint, but it’s at odds with how he presses more insistently against Yoongi.

Yoongi loses himself in the moment, focused on their bodies pushed together, feeling more content and whole than he has in weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

The remainder of Jimin’s program goes by in a blur.

After his first visit to Jimin, Yoongi fares a little better. He’s less grumpy and a bit less existential, and the grind doesn’t suck quite as much. There’s still some lingering feelings about him feeling off-track, but he’s okay. He knows he’ll get around to his own thing eventually.

He ends up visiting Jimin about once a month, and it seems like every month, Jimin is just that much squishier, rounder, pudgier. Jimin officially completes the program in only a week now, and Yoongi knows when he goes to pick him up, he’s going to be heavier than he was a month ago.

Unbidden, his thoughts wander to the last time he’d visited Jimin, and how he’d looked all sprawled out on his back. Yoongi knew better than to say so, but he’d been struck with the realization that Jimin’s now a bit _fat_ , rather than just being stocky or even chubby.

Being on his back was a position that Jimin usually favored because it flattened his tummy, but now with all the weight he’s put on, it had still bowed up, pale and jiggly. The few stretch marks that started cropping up have started making an effort of merging, etching their way together by slowly spreading their way across his underbelly.

Yoongi couldn’t help it; he had given Jimin’s belly a few pats, followed by a little shake, and watched with fascination as it wobbled all the way up to his budding little breasts.

“ _Hyung_!” Jimin had complained, squirming and blushing under him.

“Hm,” Yoongi had said, “You look good, Jiminie.”

He huffed, “I look fat.”

“Why can’t you be both?”

Jimin’s blush creeped down his neck. “You say it like it’s so easy,” he whined, “I’ve put on so much weight this year.”

Yoongi’s eyes had scanned down his body again. And what a sight it was. Yoongi could spend all day doing that. It’d be the best use of his time _ever_.

“You have,” Yoongi had agreed, because disagreeing would just be a lie. “I think you look cute like this,” he added.

Jimin huffed.

Yoongi had grinned. “You don’t think so?” He leaned down, kissing Jimin’s plump cheeks and nipping at his jaw, where his chin was doubling softly, emphasized by laying back.

“I love your round cheeks,” Yoongi said, “I think you’re chubby tummy’s sweet. And have I talked about your _ass_ lately, Park Jimin?”

That last one had earned him a snort and a swat to the shoulder, which Yoongi took with a cheeky grin.

“And you’ve always been a bit heavy, Jiminie,” Yoongi added, sincerely, “Maybe your body was trying to look like this all along.”

When Yoongi had pulled back, Jimin’s wide eyes were misty.

“ _Min Yoongi_!”

Yoongi blinks, being quickly pulled out of the pleasant memory and back into the much-less-pleasant present.

His manager’s head pokes out from the kitchen to glare at him. “Since you have the time to daydream, I assume you’ve already scrubbed the grills?”

Hot irritation flows through Yoongi, but he bites his tongue and wordlessly gets the scrub brush out and begins filling a bucket with hot, soapy water. He hears his manager stalk away, grumbling something about ungrateful youths.

As Yoongi’s in the middle of scrubbing, dripping with sweat and quickly tiring, he hears his manager bark out again, “Min Yoongi! Customer!”

“Seriously?” he grumbles to himself, taking a moment to wash his hands of the blackened residue from the grill and to wipe the sweat from his brow, moodily stalking out to the storefront.

“Oh,” Yoongi says, “It’s you.”

Taehyung laughs, “Geez, hyung, try to contain your excitement!”

Yoongi smirks and rolls his eyes, saying, “What do you want, Taehyung-ah?”

Taehyung puts his elbows on the counter and smiles up at Yoongi. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d swing by to ask what we’re doing to celebrate Jimin’s graduation. He comes home next week, right?”

“Oh,” Yoongi says, suddenly feeling like the worst boyfriend on the planet, “Uh, yeah he does.”

Taehyung doesn’t stop smiling, but his eyes are gentle as he asks, “You don’t have anything planned, do you?”

“Ah, fuck,” Yoongi says, hanging his head, “I...hadn’t even thought about doing something to celebrate. God, I suck.”

Taehyung hums, picking up and flipping through a menu on the counter. “You don’t. You’ve had a lot on your plate, hyung. Tell you what, why don’t you let us take care of it? We’ll do a dinner or something. I’ll talk to the guys and let you know where and when.”

Maybe it’s emotional whiplash or something, but suddenly Yoongi feels like he could cry with gratitude.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” he says, ignoring the sudden scratchiness of his voice.

If Taehyung notices, he doesn’t say so. Instead, he grins at him, cheeky. “I FaceTimed with Jimin last night,” he says, “He looks pretty chubby these days.”

There’s _so_ obviously no judgement in Taehyung’s face or voice, and he’s Jimin’s very best friend, but still, Yoongi can’t help bristling defensively.

“So?” he says.

Taehyung’s grin widens.

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi snaps when Taehyung doesn’t respond. He looks like he thinks he’s caught on to some big secret, and the overwhelming gratitude Yoongi just felt is fast diminishing.

Taehyung laughs. “Nothing! I think he looks adorable. It suits him. Gosh, you’re so gone for him, aren’t you?”

Yoongi glares. “Are you going to order something or what?”

Smile never fading, Taehyung looks down at the menu in his hands. “I’ll do the bulgabi toast. Maybe a coffee, too.”

_

Jimin has a lot of energy when Yoongi picks him up. He’s practically bouncing all over the walls, bubbling with excitement from passing the course with flying colors.

Yoongi hopes his energy lasts, because they’re headed straight to the celebration their friends had planned. Yoongi had feared it was a bad idea, and that Jimin would be tired, but when he said as much to Taehyung, he just rolled his eyes and said, “He won’t be.”

Maybe Yoongi should be offended at how well Taehyung knows Jimin, but he mostly just feels grateful. Yoongi himself is going to be dead tired, as he worked a late shift last night and is going to be driving for a stupid amount of hours to get Jimin home, but it’ll be worth it. He took the next few days off to spend with Jimin at home anyways.

When they get into the city and Yoongi makes a turn that is distinctly _away_ from their studio apartment, Jimin looks at him with furrowed brows.

“Where are we going?” he says.

“Are you hungry?” Yoongi asks instead of answering.

Jimin’s cheeks turn just a little pink, and he puts his hand on his tummy, on the crest, where it’s the roundest. Yoongi also notices how his lower tummy pooches over the seat belt strap across his hips, pressing firmly against the sweater he’s wearing. It’s new, it _must_ be, because Yoongi doesn’t recognize it and it actually fits him okay, even if it doesn’t do anything to disguise how round he’s getting.

“Er- well, yes.”

“Good,” is all Yoongi says, and Jimin grins, seeming to catch on.

They pull up to Jimin’s very favorite ramen place, and Jimin’s beaming already.

“Oh, I love you _so much_ , hyung. I’ve missed this place, I haven’t had ramen literally since leaving. Are you a mind reader?”

Yoongi would love to take credit for the restaurant choice and making the reservation, but it was all their friends.

“Maybe,” he still says airily, and Jimin leans in for a sweet kiss before getting out of the car.

He strolls up to the counter and starts asking for a table for two, when Yoongi comes up behind him, interrupting.

“Table for Park Jimin,” he says, and the hostess’s eyes flicker with understanding and she nods, beckoning them to follow.

Jimin looks at him questioningly as they follow her. “That’s prudent of you. This place doesn’t usually get so crowded-”

They round a corner into a more secluded event room, and “SURPRISE!” echos out. Jimin blinks, shocked, before beaming, laughing, and moving to give out hugs.

The hostess smiles and leaves, and Yoongi watches with warmth blooming in his chest as Jimin gives watery laughs and cheerful hugs to all their friends.

They sit, they eat, they drink, they laugh, and Yoongi feels like the piece of him that’s been missing is finally back.

Their friends not only pick up the tab, but also all pitched in and got Jimin a new, fancy stand mixer. It's enough to finally get Jimin’s watery eyes to overflow.

No one mentions Jimin’s weight. Not even when he shyly whispers to Yoongi that he’s still a bit peckish after finishing his bowl of ramen and Yoongi orders him another.

Yoongi will admit he’s surprised that Jimin actually finishes the second bowl, but he does. It doesn’t even seem like it’s hard.

Just how much has Jimin been overeating lately?

They’re there for a long while before it gets late and everyone decides to head out. Yoongi’s dead fucking tired, but also just so pleased to have Jimin back around that he’d stay there as long as Jimin wanted.

But as they get in the car, something starts nagging at him, and he feels bad so he just has to put it out there.

“So, um,” he starts as they get back on the road to home, and Jimin looks up at him curiously.

“I didn’t get you a graduation gift,” he says quickly, feeling _so_ guilty, but, “The car needed an oil change this month and apparently it needed new brake pads too, so money was kind of tight, but I can-”

“Hyung, hyung,” Jimin soothes, “It’s fine, I don’t want anything. I wasn’t even expecting a party with our friends. You being here and taking care of everything here is already a gift. A massive gift.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything.

“Seriously, hyung,” Jimin says more firmly, “I don’t want anything else.” He reaches out and puts a hand on Yoongi’s thigh. Yoongi takes his hand and raises it to his lips so he can kiss Jimin’s knuckles.

Jimin leans back in his chair and smiles.

_

Jimin starts applying to different patisseries and bakeries nearly the instant he’s back in town. The turnaround’s pretty quick, which Jimin proudly accredits to the new addition to his resume, and it doesn’t take long for him to get offers for interviews.

He’s getting ready for the very first one now, and as Jimin shrugs on a white button up, Yoongi quickly realizes this is going to end in disaster. Because while Jimin obviously got new casual clothes while he was away, Yoongi’s pretty sure the shirt he’s got on now is _old_. His suspicion is confirmed when he sees how tight the fabric is over his chubby, rounded upper arms. He grabs his wallet.

Jimin starts at his neck, and moves down. By the time he gets to his chest, the buttons already look snug. He gets past the narrow of his waist, right before his belly bows outwards, and immediately starts having bigger issues. Yoongi grabs his keys.

His face is already flushed, but he sucks in, belly quivering weakly, fingers working as quick as they can. He only makes it a few buttons before he has to exhale, his underused tummy muscles obviously protesting the sudden strain. His belly rounds back out, looking heavier than ever, framed by the open sides of his shirt and hanging gently over the waistband of his boxers. Jimin gives an out of breath growl before sucking in again. Yoongi shrugs on his jacket.

Jimin doesn’t make much more progress. He manages to get one more button done, but then he’s at the roundest part of his belly, and even sucking in can’t get the two sides to meet. Jimin whines, tugging harder, but it does little more than make his belly jiggle. He exhales forcefully, loud and frustrated, releasing the sides of his shirt. His belly, in all its pudgy, decadent, stretch marked softness, stubbornly pushes out between the open sides.

Yoongi’s toeing on his shoes just as Jimin spins towards him, alarm all over his face. But when he sees Yoongi ready to head out the door, he startles.

“I can be fast,” Yoongi says, “I’ll go to the department store down the street. What size do you need?”

Jimin swallows, face turning red. “Oh. Um. Extra-large.”

Yoongi nods, not letting the surprise show on his face. Jimin’s that big?

“I-” Jimin starts, looking embarrassed, “I don’t think my nice slacks will fit either.”

“What size?” Yoongi asks. They only have half an hour before Jimin’s interview.

Jimin bites his lip and looks down. “38’s,” he says.

 _Jesus_. Yoongi nods, slipping out the door, saying one more, “I’ll be fast.”

_

When Yoongi gets back with the bigger clothes, Jimin quickly changes into them. Yoongi’s shocked to see the way the XL button up is still flush against his tummy. It fits, definitely, but Jimin doesn’t have a whole lot of extra room in it. The pants seem to be fairing a bit better, a little looser, but it’s hard to tell as Jimin rushes out the door.

Jimin ends up taking the car to his interview because Yoongi has a shift, and it’s more important that Jimin be on time, so Yoongi just takes the bus.

When he gets back to the apartment, Jimin seems a little sullen. He’s cooking dinner as Yoongi walks in and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“How’d the interview go?” Yoongi asks, fearing the worst. If Jimin’s very first interview after the program was a bust, it would be a serious blow to his baking confidence.

“Oh,” Jimin says, looking almost surprised, “Fine. Good, actually. I think she liked me.”

Yoongi throws on a smile, feeling like he’s missing something, “That’s awesome,” he says with enthusiasm, and Jimin just nods.

“Jimin,” he edges, concerned, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I-” Jimin sighs, looking away and stirring the noodles he’s making, “I weighed myself when I got home.”

Yoongi curses himself. He’d actually had the thought that maybe he should dispose of it before Jimin came home, but he’d decided that Jimin had a right to know if he really cared.

He wonders if that was a mistake.

“And I knew I’ve put on a lot of weight this year, y’know? But...I didn’t realize how much.”

Yoongi hums, placing a hand on Jimin’s back and rubbing back and forth, aiming to soothe him.

“You’re gorgeous, no matter what you weigh,” Yoongi says.

Jimin still can’t seem to meet his eyes. “I have a lot of weight to lose,” he says to the noodles.

“So you want to lose the weight?” Yoongi says carefully, neutrally, wanting Jimin’s choice to be his own.

“I...well, I _should_ want to, shouldn’t I?”

“Jimin,” Yoongi says sternly, “You know what I’m going to say to that.”

Jimin sighs, loud and dramatic. He finally meets Yoongi’s eyes.

“I was, like, 75 kilos in December,” Jimin says softly. Yoongi thinks that seems right; that was before his stress baking and stress eating really started up. It’s the end of July now.

Yoongi patiently waits for Jimin to continue. He sighs again before he does, in a quiet voice.

“I weigh 96 kilos now,” he says, his wide eyes boring into Yoongi’s. “It’s a lot, I know,” he hastily adds, losing his nerve and looking down again, trying to busy himself with cooking.

“Hm,” Yoongi hums, watching him.

Jimin’s too nervous not to look back at him. “Is that all you have to say?” He scurries away from Yoongi's hand over to the spice cabinet, rifling through.

“Jiminie,” Yoongi says, “Come here.”

Jimin looks back at him, blushing fiercely, and plods back over to where Yoongi’s standing. He looks ashamed, and Yoongi wants to chase that feeling away.

Yoongi slips his hands over Jimin’s waist once he’s in reach. Jimin chews his lip.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Yoongi says, “But I like having a lot of Jimin to love.”

“It’s _a lot_ , though.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

Jimin’s eyes are wide and vulnerable again, so Yoongi continues.

“If you want to lose weight, Jimin, I’ll support you. Of course I will. You know that. But if you’d be doing it because you think it’s what I want, or because it’s what society wants, fuck that. You’re _perfect_ , Park Jimin. I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face. Scream it off the top of mountains, if I have to.”

Jimin looks like he’s fighting a smile now. “Promise you don’t mind?” he asks.

Yoongi could almost laugh. “I don’t mind even a little bit. I promise.”

Jimin’s face splits into a true smile. “Your face doesn’t seem blue to me yet,” he teases.

Yoongi tugs him close, pulling him in for a deep kiss, one he hopes portrays all the love and affection he has for this silly kid.

When he lets Jimin up for air, he looks dazed, blissed out.

“You’re perfect, Park Jimin,” he says.

_

Yoongi blinks awake. He blearily looks at the clock until his eyes focus enough and he can read that it’s barely 2 a.m.

It’s surprising, because Yoongi usually sleeps like a rock. He searches for what might’ve woken him, and it’s not until he rolls over and sees Jimin missing from bed, along with a faint light coming from the kitchenette, that he might have some idea.

He sits up, and the way their studio is laid out, that’s enough for him to see about half of Jimin’s heavy ass bent over, peering into the fridge.

Yoongi slips out of bed, fighting a shiver from the cool, nighttime air, and padding over to the source of light. Jimin stands upright and Yoongi can see he’s holding leftover japchae in one hand and half a coconut cake in the other. Yoongi also sees an empty tupperware container on the counter, which he’s pretty sure had contained juicy, rich galbi.

Yoongi’s still half asleep, and he doesn’t hesitate to drape himself over Jimin from behind, causing Jimin to jump.

“Hyung!” he exclaims, turning around.

Yoongi grumbles, because it means he has to stand upright, on his own. He takes Jimin in, round tummy pressing up against his thin t-shirt, arms full of food, cheeks pinkening.

“I got up just to go to the bathroom,” Jimin says, “But I-”

Jimin hesitates, so Yoongi supplies, “Didn’t have enough at dinner?”

Dinner had been a few generous helpings of jjigae, so Yoongi doesn’t really think that’s the case.

Jimin bites his lip. “I just...felt like a snack.”

Yoongi, still sleep dazed, can’t help cackling, “You _look_ like a snack.” He steps closer, groping Jimin’s thickened hips, and Jimin squirms, giggling.

“ _Hyuuung_ ,” he whines, but he’s still grinning, “I’ll come back to bed soon, okay? I’m just - nervous. About tomorrow.”

Yoongi wakes up a little more at that. He reaches around to Jimin’s back and gives it a soothing rub.

“You’re going to do great, Jiminie,” he encourages. Jimin’s gone on a few interviews now, and received two offers. Jimin’s personal favorite was among them, so the choice had been easy. His first day is tomorrow.

Jimin huffs, setting the food down on the counter and removing the plastic from the cake and taking a big bite. 

“The lady already loves you,” Yoongi reminds him, even though he’s just repeating what Jimin’s told him. It _must_ be true, though, because Jimin can be more inclined to believe the opposite with new people, unless it’s obvious.

“I’m just-” Jimin sighs, swallowing and starting again, “I’ve always baked as a hobby, y’know? And what if...I’m not cut out to do this for a career? What if - what if I don’t bake fast enough, or decorate fast enough? Or what if-”

“ _Jimin_ ,” Yoongi says, encroaching on Jimin’s space again. He wraps his arms around his chunky waist, a hand coming to rest on his belly and rubbing soothingly.

Predictably, Jimin sags. He takes another bite of cake, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to continue.

“Don’t worry about these things, okay? You’ll find out soon enough what the expectations are. There’s no reason to beat yourself up now, thinking you might not meet them.”

Jimin nods, now unwrapping the japchae and sticking his chopsticks in. His eyes are still worried, but he says, “It’s not like I _lied_ , too, y’know? She knows this is the first real baking job I’ve had.”

“Exactly,” Yoongi says, continuing to pet Jimin’s belly. Yoongi ghosts his fingertips over Jimin’s lower belly, where his fresh stretch marks are popping up, and Jimin groans around his next bite of japchae. Jimin doesn’t try to suck in, or direct Yoongi’s hands elsewhere. He’s been getting a little more comfortable with his body and his eating since their last talk.

Yoongi smiles and rests his head on Jimin’s shoulder. The chill in the late night air is still biting at him, and Jimin, in all his heavy warmth, is the perfect thing to chase it away.

Jimin must catch on to the way Yoongi’s clinging to him for heat, and he laughs a little, saying, “I’m sorry I woke you, hyung. You can go back to bed, I’m okay now, really.”

It’s at odds with the way Jimin shovels another bite into his mouth, but Yoongi can see in his body language that he might not be feeling _good_ , but he is feeling _better_.

Still, he can’t resist eyeing the food and teasing, “Are you sure about that?”

“Hyuuung,” Jimin complains, but he’s fighting a bashful grin, “I just- it helps.”

Yoongi knows; food’s such a comfort for Jimin, and the only time in his life that he’s seen Jimin too worked up to eat was right before applying for the baking program.

But, selfishly - Yoongi doesn’t really want to go back to an empty bed.

“C’mon, Jiminie,” Yoongi says, tugging him gently, “Just bring it to bed.”

Jimin’s eyes light up, “Really?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Yoongi grumbles against Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin’s appetite can have him eating almost anything, at almost any hour, and feeling crumbs in the bed was where Yoongi drew the line. When they first moved in together, no eating in bed was really the _only_ ground rule Yoongi had laid down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jimin assures him, and Yoongi grumbles again, wondering if he’ll regret this.

They get back into bed, Jimin sitting up so he can continue munching, and Yoongi curls up like a cat against him, resting his head on his pillowy thighs. He realizes the position is precarious, since any crumbs that fall would likely fall on _him_ , rather than the bed itself. Jimin shifts, and the swell of his belly bumps against the back of Yoongi’s head, but no crumbs fall.

He finds himself drifting off to sleep soon after, pondering that _maybe_ if Jimin could continue to be this neat, he could lift the no-eating-in-bed rule.


	3. Epilogue

Yoongi pulls up to the music hall, and shoots Jimin a text. The event was supposed to be over a while ago, and Yoongi sees well-dressed people moseying around outside, but fifteen minutes later, Jimin hasn’t answered him.

Yoongi’s not _worried_ , but he figures he may as well go inside and see what the hold up is. He gets a few looks, as he’s dressed in jeans and a big, puffy winter coat, but he’s not bothered. He just wants to collect his boyfriend and go home so they can start dinner.

The food tables are being disassembled in the lobby, and Yoongi sees Mrs. Kim, Jimin’s portly and kind boss-slash-mentor, folding up tablecloths, but no Jimin in sight.

He approaches her anyways, and when she sees him, a friendly grin spreads across her face.

“Oh, Yoongi, dear,” she says, “You’re too late! The concert’s over, and I think most of our treats got eaten. We have some leftovers-”

“Oh, Mrs. Kim, that’s okay, thank you,” Yoongi says, waving his hands. She always tries to push food on Yoongi, complaining that he’s just so _thin_ when he refuses. “I’m just here to pick up Jimin. I was at a shift anyways,” he continues.

“Ah, he’s in the kitchen,” she says, gesturing to a door that says ‘Staff Only’, “He’s packing up what we have leftover.”

“Okay, I’ll just wait out here for him, then.”

“Oh, pfft,” she waves a hand dismissively, “The lunch caterers are gone already. He’s the only one back there, just go ahead.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Alright, Mrs. Kim, thanks.”

She looks back down to continue folding table clothes, waving as he walks away, “Yes, yes, good to see you, dear, as always.”

Yoongi pushes open the door, leading into a big industrial-looking kitchen with white walls, floors and ceilings, with stainless steel appliances.

Jimin’s tying up boxes, and munching on a decadent looking cupcake. His head is down, and the puff of his double chin is out in full force.

When he hears Yoongi enter, his head pops up and he smiles. “Oh, hyung! You’re here already?”

Yoongi smiles back, “It’s past 4, Jiminie.”

Jimin gapes, “Oh no! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were taking so long to clean up.” He shoves the last of the cupcake into his mouth, like that would somehow help him hurry, as he ties the boxes up with more haste.

“It’s fine, Jiminie,” Yoongi says. Actually, this feels kind of neat - seeing Jimin in his element like this, catering a _gig_ \- it’s cool.

And suddenly he feels swollen with pride. Jimin’s dressed nicer than he usually is at the patisserie - underneath his apron, he’s in a white button up and black slacks, same as Mrs. Kim had been wearing - he realizes all at once that Jimin’s _done it_. He’s really living his dream.

He walks over to Jimin as he’s tying up the last box. Jimin looks up at him curiously, probably sensing the change in mood.

“I’m so proud of you, Jimin,” Yoongi says thickly.

And Jimin _beams_. “Oh, hyung,” he says, moving to wrap Yoongi into a hug. “I’m kind of proud of me, too,” he says against Yoongi’s shoulder.

“You should be,” Yoongi firmly says as they part, “Park Jimin, professional baker.”

Jimin’s still smiling, looking supremely pleased, as he stacks the boxes. He slips off his apron, mussed with flour and frosting, putting it into a basket. When he turns around again. Yoongi’s eyes drift to his tummy.

Jimin’s put on a bit more weight recently, as Mrs. Kim has no qualms with allowing Jimin to munch as he works. He’s finally embracing it, knowing he’s not going to lose it anytime soon, even if he still squirms and blushes about it sometimes.

But, Yoongi really can’t help but notice-

“You’ve got a button undone, there,” he says, grinning.

Jimin’s chubby, dimpled hand comes down to palm at his belly. “Oh,” he says, soft, shy, as he feels where the button right below his belly button has removed itself from the hole, displaying the undershirt beneath. 

“Button-ups just aren’t made for people with big tummies,” Jimin says resolutely, but blushing up to his ears, sucking his tummy in and reaching down for the button. Yoongi can _almost_ see his belt buckle as the swell of lower belly recedes just a little, and Jimin gets the button through the hole again. He exhales, gingerly, but as soon as his belly rounds back out to it’s true proportions, the button slips out again.

Yoongi grins, raising an eyebrow. “I think some probably are,” he says. This shirt obviously just doesn’t _fit_ anymore. Jimin purchased a few spare pairs of nice shirts and pants, to backup the outfit Yoongi had hurriedly purchased for him on the day of his first interview. But it would appear that it’s taken about five months to have outgrown his clothes, again.

Yoongi steps closer, placing a hand over the stubborn button (or rather, over the stubborn _belly_ ) and rubbing a few gentle circles, giving Jimin’s round cheeks a kiss.

Jimin chews his lip. “It’s just - a little too small on me, I think,” he murmurs, watching Yoongi shyly.

“We’ll get you new gig clothes, then,” Yoongi says easily.

Jimin’s cheeks are still pink but he smiles and nods. “I, um. I may have not been able to get that button to cooperate this morning, either.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, “But you still wore it?”

“Well - I figured no one would be able to tell under my apron. I forgot about it until now.”

Yoongi snickers, giving Jimin’s fat, doughy side a good squeeze. Jimin squeaks and squirms away, giggling.

Jimin slips on his (new) winter coat and stacks the boxes of leftovers, asking Yoongi to help carry them out. They then help Mrs. Kim get them back in her car, as she’s headed back to the patisserie anyways, and Yoongi and Jimin head home.

They start cooking dinner together, and Yoongi gets the impression that something’s up. Jimin seems a little distracted, and after a while Yoongi finally asks him what’s on his mind.

Jimin makes a sound that’s half sigh, half whine.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he says, and Yoongi goes cold all over. Those sorts of sentences don’t usually mean anything good?

Yoongi stops chopping vegetables and gives Jimin his full attention. “Er, alright,” he says, trying to not seem as anxious as he now is.

Jimin’s changed out of his work clothes and now stands in comfy sweats, looking cozy, chunky, and a twinge nervous himself. His belly is just barely poking out of the bottom of his sweatshirt, which would normally be very distracting. But, he’s wringing his hands and Yoongi’s starting to feel nauseous.

“Jimin,” Yoongi says, hearing the tenseness in his own voice when Jimin doesn’t immediately start talking, “What’s wrong?”

Jimin waves his hands around, “No, no, nothing’s wrong, I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. About you.”

That doesn’t help at all. Yoongi’s frozen, desperately waiting for Jimin to continue.

Jimin seems to realize that he’s making a bit of a mess of this, and he waves his hands around again, saying, “Ugh, okay, sorry, just - let me start over, just hear me out.” 

Jimin exhales sharply and starts over, “I think you should apply for that performing arts college, and drop your business degree.”

_Oh_. Yoongi had been expecting the worst, and feels himself relax a bit. But not completely, because _that performing arts college_ is SOPA, which is both selective and notably expensive.

He shakes his head and immediately says, “It’s too expensive, Jimin. I can’t afford that.”

Jimin all but stomps his foot, making a noise of complaint and looking stubborn, “I _said_ hear me out, hyung.” He walks over to his bedside table, opening the drawer and taking out a piece of paper that he shows to Yoongi. It reads “budget” at the top.

“I will admit that I may have had some help in working this up,” Jimin says loftily, “But with what I make now, hyung, it’s totally doable. Things might be a little tight, but we can definitely make it work. And if you, for _whatever_ reason, want to revisit your business degree later, it’s not like your credits will go anywhere.”

Yoongi’s throat feels tight as he looks at the paper, “I can’t - I can’t ask you for this, Jimin. It’s too much. You make a lot more than me right now, you’d basically be paying for my whole degree.”

“Whatever,” Jimin says easily, irreverently, “And you’re not asking. I’m telling you, I want to do this. _Please_ let me do this for you.”

Yoongi’s speechless. He stares at the paper, at the numbers, and how they work out. And it’s not even as tight as he would’ve imagined, but still - there’s lingering guilt.

“ _Please_ ,” Jimin says again when Yoongi can’t make words, “I can’t watch you be miserable getting a stupid degree you don’t care about anymore. You’ve supported me so much through my career, hyung, and I can’t think of a better use of our money.”

There’s subtle emphasis on the word “our” and Yoongi’s eyes are misty. He takes a shaky breath.

“Namjoon helped you with this, didn’t he?”

Jimin huffs, “You know I’m...not very good with numbers.”

Yoongi lets out a watery, shaky laugh.

“I might not get accepted, you know.”

Jimin steps closer. He grins, knowing he’s got Yoongi. He wraps his arms around him, placing a hand on Yoongi’s cheek, and Yoongi finally feels a treacherous tear trickle down his cheek.

“You will,” Jimin says.

**Author's Note:**

> Also in the (light) research I did, apparently western desserts are v common in Korea, so I don't think any of the cupcakes-cookies-etc are unrealistic but if you know better than me...don't @ me okay
> 
> Comments & kudos are always appreciated! <3
> 
> Follow me on [ tumblr ](https://akranes-jlc.tumblr.com)!


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